[Open Log] November Arrivals & Greeters/Protection Force

[thepull_mods]

Who: New November Arrivals, Greeters, & anyone else who happens to be hanging around the Tower Apartments to greet newcomers.
When: Month of November (Please Specify Date & Time in Thread Header)
Where: The Sector 4 Baseball Diamond, Parking Lot & Lobby of the Tower Apartments
Summary: This is your catch-all one stop log for arrival interactions!

Comments

November 7th, 5:15 PM -> locked to "Loki" for now

[reginagloriae]

Youko shrieked, clutching the sword and the gem tightly against her chest. Before she had closed her eyes, she had leaned against the fat trunk of a tree on a path into the mountains. When she opened them, she was standing in a field. Confusion seeped into her and she suppressed the wave of nausea that grew in her throat. “What…?” It looked like a worn baseball diamond.

Where I am now?

Disoriented, Youko surveyed her surroundings, unable to take a single step with her wobbling legs. It was a gratified sport ground. There had been a fence there, she could see it, the signs and welcomes, and she did not see them yet. It was close to dusk and, in her search, she could only see the modern set-up around the place. There were electric lights and a parking lot… It was nothing alike that rural village nearby the cliffs. The air was crisper than the warm weather from that place; Youko shivered, recalling that she was still drenched in blood.

But none of that mattered anymore.

GOD. Thank God! She sank to her knees, the tears of joy

Re: November 7th, 5:15 PM -> locked to "Loki" for now

[doeswhathewants]

"Nn," Eyes moved beneath closed lids, Serrure turned to his side, mouth twisted in a grimace. He curled up, one hand striking out above his head, fingers brushing blades of grass. Caught between sleep and wake, he frowned, then bolted up, instantly alert. "Luc?" A quiet call. "Luc!" Then louder

fff five/ten minutes? 5:25ish still looooocked

[reginagloriae]

Minutes flew by while Youko struggled with the basic information handed on the welcome signs over the fence. The Port? Sirens? The Darkness? Monsters? She shook her head, feeling exhaustion and disbelief washed over her. No way! I’m supposed to be home! she thought desolately, in the process of half choking a muffled sob when she heard a thud behind her.

“Who…” Dread invaded her immediately, taking a few steps backwards as soundlessly as possible, away from the signs into the outfield. She had spotted a dugout during her earlier scouting; maybe if she could reach it, she wouldn’t be seen by the boy. A boy that wasn’t there before. Like I did. Upon closer examination, he looked a few years younger and he was definitely not Japanese and from nowhere from Asia. He looks lost, she suddenly realized as she stopped her retreat, Maybe… Her line of thought had been cut when his green eyes spotted her. He looked scared and she recalled how she must look right now. Of course the blood. She wanted to shrink away from his stare, she didn’t

Re: fff five/ten minutes? 5:25ish still looooocked

[doeswhathewants]

Serrure trotted over to her, not at a run, but faster than a walk, with a sense of urgency, purposeful. "Are you okay?" He asked again, tipping his head and giving her a visual once over- though he wasn't just looking for wounds, Serrure was scoping out whether she might have other weapons on her person- or other valuables

[reginagloriae]

Youko was wearing the remains of a blue school uniform. It was torn and bloodied, but she did not seem to sustain any visible wounds. Whatever lacerations and injures she had, they were healed during her nap in the mountains. Her jacket was wrapped around the sword that she held with her right hand, while her left one gripped the parchment and the green-blue stone.

“I, um…” She had started to answer, but she could not continue. What could tell this boy? About the monsters and the mountain and the people who tried to get her executed? And, most importantly, how could he speak fluent Japanese? It was so weird. But her appearance was weird too. She looked Asian, but she had a bronze complexion, emerald eyes and a bright red hair that looked as if her head was engulfed by flames.

She looked down, staring at her feet while tears spilled down her cheeks. She shook her head to deny any of that. She wasn’t any of that! I’m just a girl. “I’m just a high school student,” Youko managed to answer before she broke down in sobs. She was

[doeswhathewants]

A high school student. Wearing a Japanese fetish school uniform. Ripped up. Bloody. Like a Kill Bill extra

[reginagloriae]

Youko was staring at the boy, teary-eyed and unable to utter another word. This was the first time since Keiki appeared and swept her away into that nightmarish world that someone had uttered calm, comforting words at her. Her knees gave in and she sank on the floor again, nodding and bowing her head in gratitude at his offer. She wasn’t alone anymore. They would go home together.

How she longed to draw a hot bath to scrub the foul-smelling blood from her. She wanted to throw herself into homework and housechores to forget the experience ever happened. She nodded, in agreement, but wasn’t able to answer. The words died when she heard the first siren.

“Huh?”

The sky was darkening around them, with the sun sinking away the buildings and the electric posts. There was something important she had to remember about the sirens… She had briefly skimmed the information. There were three sirens before it got dark.

[doeswhathewants]

"You should at least tell me your name, little miss? Unless you prefer I make one up for you. Maybe Red. Or Bonnie Anne-" He straightened at the siren, glancing about. "What?"

A frown tugged at the corner of his mouth, unlike Youko, he had not bothered to read the information. He only skimmed, really, trying to determine what the devil had brought him here and hadn't paid attention to anything he considered extraneous. There was a lot he had considered extraneous.

"Sounds like air raid sirens from a war movie," Serrure murmured, tapping a finger to the side of his jaw. Squinting into the fading light of the sky, he shrugged, "No planes. Guess we're safe. Anyway, I'm Serrure. Now let's see where we can procure you some clothes. Hope you don't mind my methods, but unless you've got a was of Francs or some plastic in those ripped up clothes- and I'm guessing no- then... well, consider it survival." He was almost too cheerful in his allusions to stealing.

[reginagloriae]

Since her parents made her strive to be good and respectable, Youko Nakajima did what she was taught to do in times like these. Besides, that was the only source of information available that did not look taken from a weird fantasy movie. She had only read snippets of the information, between her anxiety and his arrival, so she had a very fragmented grasp of the circumstances. She sat on the ground, glancing around them and above them to scout if there was something wrong. Warzone? She couldn’t see anything wrong. No plane, not even the slightest shake from the ground. Strange. Everything was so strange, but for some reason she still couldn’t fully relax. The incomplete warnings she had read made her stomach upset

[doeswhathewants]

Naka- oh but this was getting odd. "Is your dad Asian or something? Oooh perhaps a Yakuza businessman that fell in love with a red-headed French vixen. So very romantic. Unless your mother was a working girl- then less romantic."

Serrure licked his mouth then clasped his hands behind his back, that was kind of awkward and he hoped she wouldn't start crying again, "Anyway, I'll call you Naka. Unless you prefer Jima? It's just too long otherwise. And there's no 'mister,' I'm just Serrure, at your service," And gave her an oddly graceful bow.

"Consider me the Artful Dodger to your Oliver Twist, hm? Or perhaps not, if the Artful Dodger got arrested at the end. I never finished that book." With a shrug he turned slightly, glancing around, "We ought to get going before the shops close. We'll stick to the alleys and shadows until you're dressed in something proper."

[reginagloriae]

Eeh? Yakuza? French Vixen? Working Girl?! Youko just stared at him with open wide eyes. All her primal fear for the content of the signs evaporated at the sheer horror of that prospect. Her family was a respectful Japanese couple. There was nothing improper about them.

“T…That’s not it!” she exclaimed, raising her voice for the first time. She was pretty adamant to clear up this misunderstanding. She was still bewildered at his speculation. “I’m Japanese. My two parents are Japanese,” she assured him. Then she lowered her gaze, about to start to cry again. She held her tears as she continued her explanation: “My appearance is… I don’t know how it happened! But it changed! I don’t look like this at all.”

She couldn’t recognize herself in the mirror. How could her parents acknowledge her as their daughter?

“Huh.” She blinked at the reference. “I…” Naka. Jima? She let him go on with the Oliver Twists comparisons because she didn’t want to upset him. He seemed attached to the metaphors, although she disagreed with them. “Please, call

[doeswhathewants]

He blinked at her, "Isn't Youko your-" finger air quotes, "Family name?"

Then thought about that for a second, "If you're Japanese- ah don't get me wrong, your red hair is lovely- how are you fluent in French?" Because he was most certainly not speaking Japanese. The only Japanese words he knew were 'Godzilla' and 'sake.'

"Oh- don't start crying again, okay? I'm sure it's psychologically healthy to show your emotions or whatever, but I'm ahhh not equipped to handle it, okay? So, one step at a time. Youko. Right? Youko?"

[reginagloriae]

Youko shook her head. “Youko’s my name. I’m sorry, I should have been clearer since the beginning,” she apologized with another head bow. She bit her bottom lip. Her whole life she had to deal with the stigma of her rare hair color. She had to try harder to fit in for that reason. Because it immediately drew attention and her father disciplined her to avoid it. “I never dyed my hair. I inherited from my grandmother, but it wasn’t like this before. I swear… I I don’t know what happened to my face.” There was tone of hopelessness in her soft voice. She was trying to not cry as he asked, but her gaze felt foggy by the unshed tears.

Did he just say… French?

“Huh? But you’re speaking…”

The second siren interrupted the question she had braved to ask him and, of a sudden, a cold wave of panic bathed her. Why? Why she was so scared? She gritted her sword closer to her chest.

“Maybe… Maybe we should seek a shelter…” He had suggested living on alleys and shadows a moment ago, why was she contradicting his idea? “I…If you like.”

[doeswhathewants]

She reminded him of a broken winged pigeon he'd tried to keep and nurse once. It ultimately died, but for a few days the creature was well fed and happy. Hopefully this girl would not be so short lived.

"Yes. Shelter. Good idea. Shelter, then getting things sorted," He gestured to the dugout, "You think over there? Don't worry about locks, I'm..very good with them."

And tried very hard to not concentrate on the fact that she basically just told him she was not speaking French at all. He was very good at ignoring things when he had to, survival and all.

[reginagloriae]

Good with locks, huh? Youko’s mind was elsewhere to fashion a reply. Her body was paralyzed by fear of something she didn’t know, but the sensation was familiar. She felt the same each time she dreamed about that inky dusk that stained the overcast skies and the beasts descending on her. Monsters with sharp talons and teeth.

Youma that chased after her in every world.

What happens if I can’t escape this time?

“We have to run,” she said as the sirens still rang in the air. She wasn’t sure why, but her heart was pounding fast in her chest. If she was petrified one moment, she was rushing to reach the dugout door the next. God. Oh God.

Open. She could open the door easily. It’s open.

“We’re safe.”

[doeswhathewants]

"Run?" Serrure asked. "Crazy girl, why are we running?" He followed her, wondering if she really was crazy. Or if she was luring him somewhere to kill him.

Oh he dearly hoped not.

Once inside the dugout, he squinted at her, "Hey, hey, what's wrong? Come on, talk to me?" And just for safe measures, he dug around in one of the pockets of his cargo shorts and pulled out a flashlight, flicking it on to illuminate their surroundings.